A New Leaf
by Feffervesce
Summary: [On Hiatus] Amoonaria is an Alliance warrior, captured by Burning Blade slavers after a battle goes awry. When she is liberated by an unlikely savior and then is inducted into a band of outlaws, can she accept this new lifestyle, or will her hatred for her old enemy be too much to handle? Elves, trolls, and humans, oh my! Rated T for violence and language.
1. Dazed

**This fic is set before/partially during Pandaria, and it may last nearly to the end of that arc.**

**Most of that won't even matter much, since the main characters won't be following the MoP storyline as closely as my characters from Breaking Faith. However, for those of you who _do_ read Breaking Faith, occasional events may line up...and you may see some familiar characters show up from that story. :)**

**This isn't a sequel to anything either, so you don't have to read my other stories for this one to make sense. It is a new storyline in its own right.  
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_Disclaimer: I own nothing other than my OCs. Blizz is providing my sandbox. _

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Beads of sweat dripped generously down the disoriented elf's forehead and into her scrunched eyelids.

Her hearing was foggy, slowly returning, and behind her eyes throbbed an intense, debilitating pain that gave her the urge to lie down, to rest her head—or if that didn't work, to end her suffering with the cold steel of a blade. Heat flooded her senses as they returned as well, its intensity robbing her of moisture and burning her throat to the point of where her thirst overwhelmed her. Above her head, her hands had apparently been bound and shackled, draining her arms of proper circulation and making her fingers tingle uncomfortably. To top everything off, muffled, loud voices surrounded her, none of them friendly nor familiar.

What a way to wake up.

Aria let out a croaking breath, coaxing her dry, swollen eyelids to reopen, but the beating sun was so bright that it was physically too painful to attempt, so she let her head slump toward the ground and kept her eyes closed. Her dirty, thick, navy hair, half unbraided now that she'd gone so long without tending to it, was drooping lifelessly around her face, where it stuck to the sweat and tickled her neck and chin. All her armor was missing. She could tell her clothes were not her own; far too baggy, scratchy, and musty. Her shoulders and back were sore beyond measure, and any subtle movement sent shooting pain down her spine. She wondered if she'd bruised it.

_Aria_, she coaxed herself helplessly, relieved she could at least remember her name. There were so many missing hours she couldn't account for, missing days even, in which she had no idea what'd happened. The last thing she recalled, the last vivid memory of her own, was falling on that rainy battlefield possibly days earlier.

It'd been storming actually, not just raining, back on that field in the Arathi highlands. In her mind, she could still visualize the look on her human comrade Tommy's rain-streaked face when he died: haunting, yet accepting; a final goodbye. It refused to leave her, that look. The way his cold, dead eyes stared into nothing by the time his body had hit the muddy ground. And then, the way his killer's eyes had turned upon her, those vivid red pools of death, how they swirled with the adrenaline of battle as well as a streak of hysteria. Those blood red troll eyes. They belonged to just one in a multitude of many, her sworn enemies, for as long as she could remember: The Horde.

Once Tommy had fallen, Aria had known it was only a matter of time before she too was swept away with the beating rain, just another name on the list of one battle's casualties. No one would care. Anyone who possibly could care was now dead, there, in front of her. Including Tommy.

Right there on that battlefield, amidst the thunderous roars of her enemies while she fought back pointlessly against their attacks, Aria had begun to feel the full weight of her loss. Tommy was dead. Her comrade—no, her _friend_—had been slaughtered right in front of her eyes in that battle, and she hadn't even had the decency to react to it like a normal person; she'd merely stared, accepted, and returned to the battle without hesitation.

_Had it been shock?_ she wondered, trying hard to recall that battle while she knelt there in disorienting, dry heat of midday sun. Whatever it'd been, she regretted it now. Better to lose one's life in battle than to be captured and… What was it she was doing here?

She peeked open one squinting lid, flinching at the pain that followed the action and willing her glowing silver eyes to accustom themselves with the sun. A few agonizing seconds passed before finally a picture came into view.

Boots.

What?

She blinked a few more times, trying her best to lean back despite her odd kneeling/tied position, and looked again.

Yep, boots.

Multiple people were all standing there in front of her, wearing tall boots, most of them a darkish leather. She wondered if she'd gone insane. That'd explain a lot.

A loud voice shouted out over what she realized was a crowd, which she'd been blocking out until now. It was a crowd of various types, all of them appearing to be of the criminal sort. There was no specific race of which they all belonged; they ranged from human to troll, no exceptions. Some of them looked like they could possibly be pirates, though she had no idea from which strain of pirates they hailed. Clearly not the friendly types.

She could tell she was on a tiny, tropical island; the sea could be heard in every direction, and the telltale smell of salt was heavy in the muggy air. Sand blew about by her knees on the platform, as well as down below it, and seagulls could be heard crying in the skies. She was in some sort of open square with warehouse-like buildings all around, and tall palms speckled the area, though they offered scarce relief from the beating sun.

"Now, I wanna get outta this heat as bad as all of you," the rough, loud voice cut out over the raucous shouts in the crowd, "so let's get a move on with this sale." It came from one of those to her right, one of the people in boots. Given the nature of the voice, it sounded like an orc.

She glanced around her and realized she wasn't alone. To her left was a human woman who looked in just about the same shape as she as far as dehydration went, and to her right was a human man who appeared even worse. Beyond them appeared to be countless more people, all tied up and malnourished. Aria tried swallowing, even though she had nothing to swallow. What was going on? How did she get here?

She tried to speak to the woman, but her throat was so dry her words came out in a cracked whisper.

"Hey," she croaked.

The woman didn't respond.

"Hey. Girl." Her voice won out for a half second.

The woman looked over at her, but then lowered her head immediately as a shadow fell over Aria. She glanced up at the source of the shadow to see a stocky female orc glaring down at her with a painful-looking thrash in one hand.

"Shut your mouth," the orc said brashly, her Common just barely understandable.

Aria gritted her teeth and glared up at the orc, the two of them stuck in a stalemate. She refused to look away, her hatred boiling up at the sight of this creature. For all she knew, that orc could have been one who helped kill Tommy or her other allies.

"Eyes at the ground, scum," she growled at Aria.

The elf refused to turn her head. What did she have to lose? Her life? She'd lost everything already.

"I said _eyes down_," she warned.

Arria's eyes remained fixed upon the orc's.

That did it. Out came the thrash, the end of it connecting with the side of Aria's face in a resounding, stinging 'snap!', the same way a whip would injure its target. She let out a sharp cry, slumping downward, her entire face exploding with pain.

She heard another voice, just as rough as the orc's but masculine, sound scolding.

"Don't ruin that one, she's pretty. More coin for the pretty ones."

Aria's heart sped up as she stared at the ground at her knees. Coin? She was being sold? That's what this was, a slave trade? Heavens know she'd be a terrible slave.

The side of her face began to burn from the lash, and she felt a strange hot trickle down her cheek. After a moment, a splash of dark crimson blood hit the wooden plank at her knees, and she blinked away the pain. That lash had been sharper than she'd thought.

The woman who'd hit her replied to the man. "I don't care what they look like, as long as they know their place."

A pair of dark boots stepped into her vision just as a rough hand grabbed the uninjured side of her face and wrenched her chin upward. She squinted out the sun again, unable to see the face that peered down at her.

"If you aim to hit her again, avoid the face." The male orc was the speaker.

Aria silently agreed with this, though if it were her choice, no hitting would be involved at all. Then again, she'd sort of brought it upon herself.

One of the orcs standing up there on that scaffolding shuffled over to the man beside her and yanked him to his feet, forcing the guy to stumble out to the center of the odd scaffolding she and the other prisoners were on.

The orc began calling out numbers, and people in the crowds began shouting back in response. It was hectic, confusing, and made Aria's head pound even worse, so she slouched her head and scrunched her eyes shut. No use paying attention; her time would come soon.

Two more prisoners went up to the front, received a price, and were sold. Aria felt her stomach churn and twist in its emptiness. Perhaps whoever ended up buying her would give her something to eat? Would she be that lucky? She knew for a fact that no matter what happened though, she would find a way to escape her 'owner'. She was not someone's property; she'd never be anyone's property, and anyone deluded enough to believe they could contain a night elf warrior would soon enough learn their mistake.

A parrot's telltale squawk sounded out from near the front, and Aria peered out over the edge of the stage. The sight that met her at first was so ridiculous she thought all this was a joke. She'd seen pirates before, and she had heard of their tendencies. But this new group that'd taken place in front of the other buyers was so incredibly, stereotypically _pirate_ that she couldn't help but let a parched smirk cover her dry, chapped lips before wincing as the skin cracked. She tried running her tongue over her lips, but this only worsened their condition; her tongue was so dry that even the inside of her mouth tasted like dust.

The people standing closeby were all dressed in ridiculous, over-exaggerated jewelry and hats, and one even had a parrot. To top it off, to her absolute amusement, one guy had _two_ eye-patches on. Over both eyes. What the hell?

She glanced toward the woman to her left, who seemed to have noticed them as well. She caught Aria's eye for a moment, and Aria's heart skipped a beat as she saw what might've just been a fluke: the woman donned a fleeting smirk, winking with one eye before the whole look vanished, returning back to the blank stare at the ground.

Perhaps Aria really was going crazy.

The orc woman who'd struck Aria strode over to the hunched human woman and grabbed her by the shoulder, untying her bindings from the poles above them and dragging her to the front. Aria watched this time as the sale went down. For some reason, though she'd never spoke to the woman in her life, Aria felt a pang of sadness seeing her go. It was like being there together on that scaffolding had given them something in common, in a way. A shared experience.

The auctioneer began shouting out starting prices. One of the pirates up front, a rugged-looking man dressed in far too many colorful silks, retorted back an outlandishly-high price.

"Thirty thousand."

The auctioneer sounded surprised for a moment before he quickly became more enthusiastic.

"Do I have any more bidders?" he called out, but his sentence wasn't finished when yet again another one of those ridiculously-garbed pirates interrupted him.

"Sixty thousand," a liquid voice barked from someone she couldn't see at this angle.

The auctioneer appeared baffled, and Aria's eyes widened as well. The highest any other slave had brought in was just under one thousand. What was it this woman had that the others didn't?

"No, cheap-ass, bump it up to ninety!" another voice shouted.

"One hundred!"

Aria could swear she saw the woman's shoulders quake with what looked like laughter. What in Elune's name was going on?

"Five hundred thousand!" A woman yelled. Thus followed a round of raucous laughter from the large crowd of flamboyant pirates.

The auctioneer suddenly looked pissed. "If you aren't buying, get the hell out," he growled over the group.

"You see, we're _not_ buying, that's the thing!" a teasing, loud, strangely-accented masculine voice sounded suddenly from up high and to the left. Faces turned, as did Aria's, but she didn't see a thing. The voice continued, still out of sight from behind thick fronds of a palm. It appeared whoever was speaking was somehow on top of a nearby shed and was taking cover behind the tree's leaves. "In fact, no one here is buying. Now let the girl go."

The orc looked unconvinced. "Get the hell out of my auction." He gripped a complicated-looking firearm at his belt.

"Ladies and gents," the voice carried out again, and finally Aria caught sight of its owner. "If you'd all kindly take a step away from those prisoners you've got there, this will go much smoother."

Sauntering leisurely out onto the rooftop of that distant shed was a troll man of decent height, garbed in tribal-yet-modern belts and pants. He wore a leather harness over a bare, bronze chest, and attached to that harness were shoulder guards, a hood, and a long, green-tinted cape. In his gloved hands was a tightly-drawn bow, with the arrow pointed straight toward the scaffolding. The only way Aria could distinguish his racial origin was due to the tusks that jutted out from under his hood, at which, due to her time fighting against these creatures, Aria couldn't help but cringe. Even so, he was at least saving some of the prisoners; that was good, right?

His voice carried out again, this time far less genial. "Touch that gun, orc, and you'll be dead before you can draw."

"You're trying to rob me of my prizes?" the orc laughed, but his hand did remove itself from the firearm.

"Rob you?" the troll's voice was oddly-clear. He laughed darkly and shook his head. "Ah, my dear slaver, but that is the dilemma: you do not own these people. Now if you'd step back with your hands above your head..."

"You are outnumbered," the orc retorted, refusing to move. "One troll against my guards? You should have thought this through."

"I take this as a confirmation you won't do as I ask?" the hooded troll asked.

"I will not," the orc said, then spat a thick glob at his own feet. "Leave before you regret this."

"Poor choice, slaver," the troll said, and with that, he sent his arrow free.

The sharpened point sank into the exposed eye socket of the auctioneer, who stumbled a step backward, then fell. Just like that, he was dead. At the same time, the human woman who'd been kneeling up front suddenly stood, hands somehow free of their confines, and Aria watched as she twisted around, grabbed the weapons of the orc woman who had held her there, and finished her off as well, the familiar-yet-sickening sound of the knives cleaving through flesh giving Aria a strange sense of excitement and hope. The woman then jumped down off the scaffolding and joined in with the colorful pirates, clashing with the guards of the auction. Aria surged forward, fighting against her shackles, wishing desperately she could be in on what was now turning into a pretty epic fight.

All those ridiculously-dressed pirates, at the sight of the troll killing the auctioneer, had apparently been waiting for that as their signal. They turned on the people behind them, all those criminal-looking characters who'd attended in order to buy or sell slaves, and thus began an entertaining, terrifying battle. In her peripherals Aria noticed a flash of color, and she glanced over to see that hooded troll cutting the bindings off of the people beside her.

However, as much as she wanted to be free, Aria couldn't help but feel the bile in her stomach rise at the proximity of the troll. It had been a troll who'd killed Tommy back in Arathi. The blood red eyes of that creature had been ingrained in her mind forever, and though she was quite sure this was probably not the same troll, she couldn't help it. Her fury rose, turning into rage, and by the time he reached her, she shuffled her feet back, cringing away. She didn't want this troll to have any redeeming qualities. She wanted him to be a monster, like the ones she'd fought so often. If he saved her, if he freed her, she wasn't sure she could be responsible for her actions, nor the guilt that'd follow them.

He paused momentarily when she cringed away from him, and he stared down at her, his face hidden and unreadable under his hood. His gloved hands reached out to her bindings, and she let out a growl that even to her was unrecognizable.

His hands paused again. Around them echoed the sounds of clashing swords and shouts, but even as she glanced over at the fighting, she knew those crazy pirates had the upper hand. Most of the attendees were fleeing for their lives, and the guards and officials of the slave trade were all dead.

"Kal," a woman's voice called out, the same woman who'd been tied beside Aria. "Hurry. We don't have much time."

The troll let out a grumble under his breath and reached for Aria's bindings. Again, she tensed up. It took everything in her not to lash out. She'd been fighting Alliance battles for so long that being approached by one of these creatures like this was almost physical torture.

"Look, if I can't free you, you'll die," he said, his voice rough.

She didn't reply, just glared up at him murderously.

His shoulders slumped, and his tone had a hint of remorse. "Is that what you want? You want me to leave you here to die?"

Still, she did not answer, refusing to speak to this _troll._

He let out a rumbling sigh and seemed to come to a decision on his own. He reached out and grabbed her bindings, sawing at them with his knife until they came loose. Her hands fell, and she let out a cry of pain. Her limbs had been tied up for so long that the stiffness plus the lack of circulation made it beyond painful to move them.

Still, though, there was a troll just five feet from her, and he'd willingly set her free. And when he reached up and pulled down his hood, revealing vivid crimson eyes, Aria snapped like a crazed animal at the sight.

With the pain of losing Tommy—to a troll just like this no less—still fresh in her mind, she launched herself forward, pummeling into the man and knocking him backward. She'd hoped to knock him off his feet, but his balance was off-the-charts and he somehow stayed upright as she threw her chokingly-painfully-sore arms out in punching attacks. One of her fists connected with his bare ribs, and the other swung dangerously-close to his jaw as he dodged out of the way.

"Stop," he warned her, blocking her attacks easily, which were becoming weaker as her fatigue pulled at her. Her adrenaline and fury had built up while she was tied, but now as she spent her energy, she discovered there really wasn't that much to be spent.

Aria threw another punch toward his face, and he halted it with an open palm.

"Stop," he repeated, his voice commanding.

She felt hot tears forming in her eyes and refused to quit. Tommy's memory wouldn't be disgraced. She'd rather this troll kill her right now, she'd rather her death mirror the deaths of her fallen friends, than accept this monster's help. She noticed that the sounds of battle had faded, left only with the triumphant cheers of what she could only guess were the pirate-impostors. At least she wouldn't be taken as a slave.

She'd much rather die like this.

Somehow, her energy kept up as she threw another attack at him, but he now caught her by the wrists and stared down at her in curiosity and confusion. She caught his intense, calculating gaze for a moment and averted her own, refusing to look into the eyes that so resembled the killer of her closest friend. He obviously wasn't the same man, she thought to herself as she stared at the ground, the side of her face stinging and her mouth burning with thirst. The man who'd killed her friend had looked beyond different.

But those eyes...

She looked back up at him. The eyes set her fury aflame, recounting in her mind the memories of Tommy's lifeless stare.

With a cry of grief, she made to attack again despite his hold on her wrists, letting go of any remaining restraint. Something hard and painful connected with the back of her head, and at that, she was out cold.

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**Ohohooo what now, what now?**

**Stay tuned. ;) **

**Thank you so much for reading, and depending on feedback, I'll try to get this one updated quickly. :)**


	2. Arrested

**Sorry for the lateness of the update. :) I had to focus on some Reawakening plot progression before I could finish this chapter. Sooo many plans for this story! **

**And WOW! You guys are so AWESOME! All of you! Seriously!**

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**Review Responses: **

**Rio's Desire: There will be so much more to read! :D**

**Khaylie: Cooking up a big ol' batch of trolls and more trolls. ;D **

**Onyxring: Yayay! :D When people post excited gibberish reviews, for some reason it makes me just as excited. Bwaahha.**

**FairlyJane: Thanks! :D Hope you enjoy the chapters to come!**

**peachycupcake: I haven't decided if Eko will show up in this one or not... I have the perfect way of tying him in, though, so I suppose it wouldn't hurt. :D I miss him! And Ian and Aitto and all those who didn't make their appearances in Reawakening... **

**Noriana26: Hahaha! The Adventures of Murloc and Frog: Swamp Life. I don't even... xD And yes, as you can see, review responses are definitely happening!**

**CherryMountain: Pirates and bandits and slavers, oh my!**

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**Jysshio: Oh my gosh hahaha your avatar photo combined with the "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" in your review made me picture the cat saying that and I literally just laughed myself to tears. And yesss! Trolls... I can't get enough of da trolls.**

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_The rain fell in thick drops, its heavy pour disorienting not only for Aria but for the team that'd accompanied her to this location as well. Four men were under her order: three humans by the names of Tommy, Mason, and Ryan, and one quiet elf who called himself Luriel. She'd known them for half a decade in their service together, and she respected them like brothers._

_She called out through the downpour, blinking the water from her eyes._

_"Tommy, you stick with me. The rest of you hang back and cover. If we hit trouble, I'll signal."_

_They all nodded their heads, and Tommy approached her side. His chocolate brown eyes, despite the heavy rain, still seemed to shine out as her beacon._

_"Aria," he murmured close to her ear, looking tense. "We have no idea what we're about to throw ourselves into. All we know is that an hour ago, Alliance sent for backup. A lot can happen in an hour. They could all be dead, and we could be walking into a death trap ourselves."_

_Aria shook her head in determination. "We'll do what we have to," she said cryptically. When his uncertain gaze didn't falter, she let her shoulders relax and scooted a little closer to him. "When have I ever failed you before?" she let a subtle smile cover her lips, giving him a quirky smirk, a gesture she didn't give to just anyone._

_He studied her for a long while before letting out a sigh. "Never."_

_"And no matter what happens, you know I could never let you down." She spoke in a convincing tone._

_His eyes took a puppy-dog look to them, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. His already-dark skin glistened like obsidian in the rain, appearing even darker than normal, and a few locks of his wiry, tight, curly hair had escaped from the wrap he'd used to tie it back and had fallen down and stuck to his face and around his eyes due to the rain. He addressed her pleadingly._

_"Amoonaria…"_

_She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thomas, have faith," she repeated slowly, her glowing silver eyes capturing his sweet browns._

_He studied her carefully, appearing desperate to say something, but then finally looked on behind her. "Alright, then, let's go."_

_She looked over her shoulder. The location they'd been sent to investigate was some farmer's plot, a contested area which was for some reason intensely problematic. Apparently there was a weapons storage under wraps that the Alliance had discovered, and they were here to root it out._

_However, the Horde had been giving quite a fight; the last three Alliance troops sent in had not returned, and Aria felt uncertainty well up within her despite her confidence in her own team. Some—make it most—of her uncertainty was due to the look her comrade Tommy was giving her: a look of caring, yet at the same time, complete and total undervaluing mistrust. Like he wanted desperately to trust that she was making the right decision, yet at the same time, he knew better._

_And that most certainly did not make her feel good about what she was about to do._

_First of all, they had to find any remaining Alliance soldiers or stragglers. If that proved impossible, their task would be to carry out the objective themselves: drive out the Horde there by any means necessary and either confiscate or destroy the weapons bunker. This base was too close to the Alliance strongholds, and they couldn't let Horde amass right under their noses._

_Aria looked off in the distance from where they were all five hiding behind a clump of bushes and a lone tree. The only thing she could see there that distinguished the "farm" from any other building was the fact that it was one single crappy little paint-chipped barn at the edge of a generic produce field. Wherever these weapons were, they were probably underground._

_She turned back to Tommy._

_"Are you ready?" she asked him._

_He smiled at her. "Last chance to back out."_

_"Never done it, don't plan on starting now."_

_"Well then," Tommy said quietly, his dashing expression unnaturally somber. "We won't let you down, Evenstar."_

_His reference to her surname always made her smile, but little did Aria know, she was leading him and the rest of her team straight to their deaths._

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"Tommy, wait-!" Aria sat up too quickly as she woke, her forehead smacking into the outstretched hand of whoever was sitting beside her.

A woman's voice calmed her.

"Shh," she whispered. "You're safe here."

Aria blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room she was in. She was lying in a cot, though as far as her location, she had no idea. She could hear a continuous, telltale sound of rain hitting the roof of what she was pretty sure was a hut, and off at the end of the room was a small glassless window that let in warm, wet air.

She looked over at the woman beside her and raised her brows in surprise. This was that same woman she'd encountered on the scaffolding.

"Who are you?" Aria asked, unsure of what else she could say.

"Who am I?" the woman hummed, dipping a cloth into a bowl of cool water and applying it to Aria's forehead. As if a lid had been lifted, Aria felt her thirst begin to dry out her throat and mouth again, and she looked around desperately, then her eyes fixated on the bowl of probably-dirty water. The woman read into this immediately and retrieved a full glass.

"Drink in slow sips," she warned, and Aria nodded. She knew of the dangers of dehydration.

The freckled, copper-haired woman sat back down beside Aria's cot. "My name is Lucille Bentley or Lucy, as most call me. And you? Might I know the name of the girl I've been tending to?" She smirked.

"Amoonaria, but just Aria is fine," Aria croaked, forcing herself to drink the water in slow, paced sips. Too fast, and she could suffer dire consequences. She cleared her throat, which had at least regained some normalcy, and set the nearly-full glass on the floor by the cot. "Where am I, Lucy?"

"You are in my home," Lucy said, smirking slightly. "Or, at least, part of it."

Aria frowned. "How about a less-specific location? City, maybe? Or zone?"

"I can tell you this: you're safe in our jungle camp, and we're taking care of you."

Aria licked her chapped lips. Jungle, eh? How was it she'd been in the highlands prairie in a battle what felt like a day ago, then was on some desert island being sold, and now she was in a jungle? How much time had passed between each event?

"How long have I been out?" she asked.

"A good two days or so." Lucy winced apologetically. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard, but you were kind of going crazy, and I'm pretty sure your unconsciousness was retained due to your dehydration and fatigue. We had some healers come in and do what they could. Now it's up to you to finish their job."

"Two days?" Aria blinked.

"Yes." Lucy reached behind her to grab something. "Hungry?"

Aria's stomach growled in response, and Lucy laughed a little, handing her a small bowl full of a hot liquid. Aria sniffed it; it smelled different, unusual, but still quite appetizing.

"What is it?"

"A broth blend," she replied. "It helps with dehydration I guess. The healers said something about sodium and water balances and muscle function, so I just roll with it."

Aria held the bowl to her mouth and took a sip. It was actually quite good. She finished it off while Lucy watched her, and then handed it back to the woman. She then reached up to brush her hair back, but yanked her hand away when to her shock, her normally-waist-length locks of navy blue hair were completely gone. One of her palms tentatively brushed over her head to discover that it was entirely shaved; an even layer of short, half-inch-length hair remained. Her eyes bulged out of her head, and Lucy quickly spoke up.

"The slavers..." she began and Aria looked up at her in confusion.

"The slavers didn't cut my hair. I had my hair on that scaffolding when they died," she argued. She remembered how she'd felt it sticking to the sweat on the sides of her face.

"You had... Part of it," Lucy said. "They'd shaved off three-quarters of your head to mark you. I saw it happen far before we were taken to the scaffolding. Kal said to just take the rest of it off when you were asleep; it could grow back evenly and would be much less embarrassing for you."

Aria swallowed, running her hand over her super-short hair and forcing herself not to blubber about it. She wasn't all that vain of a person, but losing all of her long hair felt like just one more invasion of her privacy, and it was getting to her.

She willed herself to think about something else.

"Who is Kal?" The name seemed familiar for some reason.

"He's my boss. Sort of."

"Your boss? Boss of what?"

Lucy looked amused at whatever it was she thought of and then spoke. "I suppose it's disrespectful for me to call him by his nickname. Zu'Kalox is…a...guild leader who deals in…transactions." She kept pausing, carefully choosing her words, and sounded like she was covering up for something and had a ridiculous, wily look on her face.

"Transactions?"

"In a way, yes," Lucy's eyes danced.

"Why do I have the feeling that's not what he does?" Aria couldn't help but smirk at the look on the woman's face.

"I can't really disclose any details, not without his permission," Lucy explained. "But as of right now, the best way to describe what he does is 'business transactions'."

Aria relented and leaned back in her cot, letting out a mild sigh. Lucy studied her for a while and then spoke in a quieter tone.

"May I ask _you_ something?"

Aria nodded. That question always confused her, though; why plead permission to ask a question? Is that not redundant and time-wasting?

"Who is Tommy?"

The mention of his name aloud was so sudden, Aria felt her entire body become tense. Her heart felt like she'd just doused it in acid, and she looked down at her hands, a lump forming in her throat. Remaining silent, she chewed her lip until it cracked again and she tasted blood, and Lily cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

Aria nodded. She did not want to talk about Tommy, not this close to his death. She wasn't sure she'd even get a word out before losing her calm.

"A different question, then," Lucy said. "Why did you attack Kal on that scaffolding?"

Attack Kal? Aria thought back to the scaffolding, placing the puzzle together. Her mind began to make more sense of things, and she blinked. Kal. Zu'Kalox. That was the name of the troll, the one with the red eyes, the one she'd attacked. She hadn't connected the two together, even though it was so incredibly obvious.

As if she hadn't been tense already, this made her shoulders begin to ache. She licked her lower lip, which stung a little, and then gritted her teeth before speaking. "I don't…" her voice was unnaturally rough. "I don't…like…trolls."

"Any of them?" Lucy seemed confused.

"No."

"…Why?"

Aria's eyes fell on Lucy, and as much as she tried, no words formed. Why did she hate trolls? Where to even start?

The pain in those silver eyes must've been so strong that Lucy suddenly looked regretful that she'd asked the question in the first place. Lucy gave her a sad smile, standing up quickly.

"You know what? This isn't helping you at all," she laughed uneasily, and picked up the empty bowl, leaving the glass of water there. "I'll let you rest."

She then made for the door, reached out to take the handle, and then froze, fingers just barely touching the cold doorknob. Aria watched as Lucy ever-so-slightly cocked her head to the side as if listening in for something, and she perked her own ears, trying to catch what Lucy heard, but couldn't.

Aria waited for a few beats. "What is it?"

Lucy held up one hand to silence her and kept her eyes on the ground as she listened, and then immediately locked the door and took three sudden steps back, bristling all over in what looked like fear. Aria pulled her covers off and sat up straight at Lucy's alarm.

"Lucy," she prodded, "What is going on? Why are you-"

Lucy glanced back at her with a distressed expression for a split-second before someone pounded hard on the door and yells could now be heard outside. Lucy kept backing up, seemingly protecting Aria with her own body. Aria stood out of her bed, feeling woozy and lightheaded, but blinked it away as best she could. The door pounded again, making a cracking sound, and Aria blanched. Obviously this was not good, if Lucy was acting so panicked.

One more bang on the door, and then it stopped, giving them both a false sense of hope before suddenly the wooden door shattered inward. Aria sucked in a breath and covered her eyes to protect from splinters as Lucy instantly stealthed out of sight.

Stomping in through the door was a massive orc waving around a sharp, intimidating flail. His eyes landed on Aria, and they seemed to burn with intensity as he shouted out a string of Orcish behind him to what she could only guess were more orcs.

Aria searched frantically for a defense weapon but found nothing other than her little empty bowl and some blankets and pillows, which obviously wouldn't do any good against a large orc and his spiked flail. He stepped in closer to her, and she glanced to the sides, wondering where the hell Lucy went and feeling betrayed for being abandoned like this.

The orc held up one giant hand to her, looking stern. He growled an Orcish word and pointed at the ground. "Lakra." It sounded like an order.

She glared at him spitefully. She had no idea what he was saying, but she could tell he was trying to control her and refused to follow what he wanted. After he stared at her for a moment, he stepped forward again threateningly.

His voice was growly and deep. "Kneel," he said in Common, and she blinked in surprise, then gritted her teeth.

"No."

He gripped the handle of the flail in his hands and approached another step closer. "_Kneel_." He jammed a finger toward the ground.

She backed up a little further, feeling worried; he was cornering her, and her claustrophobia was kicking in. Any further, and she'd probably snap. She needed to keep a cool, logical head to deal with this.

At the door, a three more orcs appeared, and Aria felt her hopes drop entirely. One orc, despite her weakened state, she probably could've taken on if push came to shove. But four? Not so much.

They all stepped into the room, and one of them addressed the first man in Orcish. He nodded back, looking pleased, and then looked back at Aria. He said something to them, not removing his cold stare that burned into her, and then, to her horror, they all closed in on her.

She backed up into the corner of the hut, baring her teeth ferally and flattening herself against the wall, eyes darting amongst the three. They approached cautiously, all gripping their weapons tightly and crouching their stances offensively.

"Lucy," Aria said shakily, "If you're still in here, now would be a good time to-"

Apparently, Lucy'd had the same idea, because moments later, one of the orcs' weapons had been yanked from his hand and he'd been knocked forward onto the ground as the redheaded rogue shimmered into view.

Aria grabbed the chance and threw herself forward, taking advantage of the orcs' surprise and knocking one man's weapon to the side, then sweeping a kick to his ankles. He lost his balance, and she leapt for his weapon, but was knocked back by the third orc, his club connecting with her ribs in a painful blow that forced the air out of her lungs.

She gasped, trying to regain a little stability, but her hesitation was all they needed to get the upper hand, and one of them grabbed hold of her by the neck.

What happened next was all a blur. One of the orcs managed to get a hit in against Lucy, his axe grazing one thigh, just enough to slow her to the point of where he could actually catch her, and he then slammed one large armored fist to her temple, knocking her unconscious. She fell limply onto the floor in a muffled 'thunk'.

Aria fought against the guy who had his hand gripped around her throat, her elf claws digging into his skin and drawing blood, but he didn't seem at all fazed. He growled something in Orcish as he held her there against the wall, and another orc approached.

The last thing she saw before again losing consciousness was his big, bloodied fist coming straight for her face.

* * *

Something hard plinked against the side of Aria's face, and she jerked awake, sucking in a painful breath and then wincing and gasping as her ribs erupted in excruciating pain. She held her breath a moment, recognizing broken ribs as she'd felt this before, and let the air out painfully and slowly. She blinked a few times, though her vision still hadn't returned properly.

Again, something hit her, this time on the arm, and she startled and looked around, finally realizing that she was lying down in a dark, cold, iron cell with her ankles and wrists chained together, and the chain was linking through a hook in the middle of the floor. Her balance was continuously uneven, and it only took her a moment to realize that the cell was moving as well, most likely in some sort of wheeled transport.

She peered through the dark for the source of the projectiles and finally caught it, and immediately she sat up at the sight, though that action too made her grit her teeth and blink back the pain coming from her ribs.

Across from her in the cell sat another dark figure just barely illuminated by a cold, flickering light, no doubt moonlight, that came in from a grated window. She could see the panes of his chest and arms just barely, jostling about with the movement of the cart, and caught an occasional flicker as the moonlight hit his tusks. She shuddered. Tusks like that could only mean one thing.

She swallowed shakily and backed up against the wall of the cell, trying to pull her knees up close but failing due to the pain in such an action, not to mention her chains wouldn't give that much freedom. She then ended up just sitting there how she was. Each bump in the road that jostled the cart sent pains up and stole her breath, and she had to focus not to cry out when it happened.

She stared across at the troll.

He shifted suddenly, his chained hands going to his lap, and scooted himself into a straighter posture. He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned toward her, though they were still at least five or six feet apart in the cell. At his action, she bristled and curled a little further into her corner. He seemed to be watching her, and after a few more beats, he finally spoke. His tone was quiet and even.

"This is quite a predicament we're in, yeah?"

She felt uneasiness spark at the sound of his voice and felt anger flare up again, but she did not answer. She did notice that although he did have the troll slang, it wasn't as strong as what she'd expected. She'd heard him talk before, yes, but hadn't paid attention to the way he did so. This probably meant he'd spent a good amount of time away from his people, if he was assimilating into a different accent.

A moment passed in silence, and he sat back, leaning his shoulders and head against the wall. His long arms draped downward, and his dual-digit hands went to the floor, fingers drumming against the hard wood in a subtle 'thunk, thunk' as he continued to watch her.

Again, he spoke up. "I swear this doesn't happen often. You've met us at a bad time." His voice held strong humor and was sort of deep and rugged, but still expressed youth, and it was disconcerting for her to be spoken to from someone like him. She'd never actually spoken one-on-one to a troll before, and currently, she felt offended by how easy he was taking the whole situation. He was chained as well, wasn't he? What was his deal? From what she could gather, his "guild" had been raided by more slaver orcs and he had been _taken prisoner_, but he apparently didn't give a single damn about the entire thing.

She still didn't reply. The thought of speaking to him, for some reason, gave her a pitted feeling in her stomach, and even having him one-sidedly converse with her was throwing her off.

Finally, he let out a sigh, voice remaining cool and still sort of quiet. "I get the feeling you aren't one for conversation."

Her sharp silver eyes glared up at him, catching his in a burning stare, and finally she couldn't help herself. "Not with the likes of a troll." She practically spat the words. She didn't even want to refer to him by a name. "Troll" was more fitting than anything else.

"Whoa," he held his chained hands up in defense, letting out a quiet chuckle, and she realized their chains were connected, seeing as when he lifted his, it tugged on hers. "My apologies. Didn't realize you held such strong prejudices against my kind, _elf."_ He said that last word with a hint of spite, though he kept the humor. She was glad she couldn't very well see him; she could practically hear his smug smirk.

She wrapped her arms around herself carefully and stared off at an unoccupied, dark corner of the cell. The fact she'd been placed in a cell with none other than the troll himself had her cursing fate.

A few minutes in, the cart jostled exceptionally-hard, and Aria's breath hitched sharply, then exited in a short, quiet whimper. She held a hand to her side, clenching her jaw and scrunching her eyes shut for a moment, waiting for the pain to pass. She didn't want to show any weakness, especially not in front of the troll. She heard the troll say something she didn't catch and heard his chains clinking around for a moment and tugging slightly on her own as he moved. As the pain began to fade, she opened her eyes and saw that he'd shifted into a different position, sitting straighter and leaned forward a little, giving her a concerned look, for the first time realizing she was in pain.

"Injured?" he questioned.

She grimaced and returned her stare to the corner of the cell.

He sighed and let himself slump backward against the wall, resting his forearms against his legs, and murmured something to himself that sounded regretful. "Hell, if I'd have known that..."

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. She furrowed her brows. If he'd have known that, then what? How would this be any different? Did he have control over what was happening? No, of course not, seeing as he was chained up just like her. So what was he talking about?

The cart suddenly rumbled to a stop, lurching a little and causing both of them to wobble forward before plopping back into their spots. She hissed at the pain but otherwise stayed silent, and a few moments later, the back of the cell opened up wide, and Aria felt her ankles and wrists tug as a dark-skinned orc pulled on the chains that bound them, urging her to get out. The troll exited first, sliding out and standing there as the chains clanked about, and Aria followed mostly against her will, being pulled by the chains connected to the troll. Once her bare feet hit the ground next to him, her ribs yet again seared in pain, but she just gritted her teeth and held her breath.

She looked around. It was nighttime and felt bitterly cold, but at the same time so arid she already felt the moisture leaving her skin and her mouth becoming dry. This was definitely a desert, and a corrupt one at that; the ground she stepped onto felt unpure and volatile, like it was slowly leeching away any positive energy in the area, including her own.

The orc overseeing them jammed a thumb off past the cart, giving them an Orcish order, and Aria followed the direction with her own eyes. She saw a few more orcs waiting about thirty feet down a stretch of darkened, red stone pathway, and beyond that looked like a small outlook over the edge of a cliff. A stone fortress loomed out of the ground, though it was in no way a new or kempt structure. One half of it appeared to be crumbling away, and she saw no distinguishing flags or markers on it. The night was black as pitch, all the stars cloaked by shadowy clouds which were now starting to conceal the moon as well. Aria glanced to her sides at the sounds of clanking and rustling and saw other carts where more dark figures in chains were crawling out of the mobile cells, probably more of the troll's guild. Aria wondered to herself why these orcs had captured so many members rather than just killing them, unless these orcs were slavers as well. Even so, they should have realized that this guild was not fit for forced labor.

A yank on her chains brought her attention back to the present, and she stumbled forward as one of the burly men tugged them toward the crumbling fort. Behind them, she could hear other prisoners' chains clanking; when she'd looked earlier, she had counted at least six other people, though none of them were recognizable in the dark. As they were all led toward the crumbling fortress, she heard the troll behind her speak close to her ear.

"Keep calm," he murmured, almost too quiet for her to hear, and it was all she could do to keep from cringing away at the proximity. He continued.

"Don't worry. This is all going according to plan."

Aria blinked in shock.

...What had she gotten herself into?


	3. Unbound

**Sorry it's been a while! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this. :D I'm having a lot of fun with the story and have big plans for this one. **

**Responses:**

**Strazor: Thanks! :) I'm glad you like it!**

**Noriana26: Also I already PM'd you I think about that review.. :D Plus I added the story to my list. Loving it so far!**

**Ophianara Blade: Oh man I know, I hate being mean to my characters... Poor Aria isn't out of the clear yet, but soon enough.. Don't lose hope, Aria! x)**

**OnyxRing: Ugh, right? Short hair on an elf. Unnatural! :S**

**CherryMountain: Kal is definitely not your typical troll! :D And yeah, she'll be all off-balance without that big head of hair :O**

* * *

**Thanks everyone! You're all awesome! :)  
And to my Reawakening readers: that chapter is almost completed. I'm super-sorry for the wait... Had to finish up with school and such. :D **

* * *

Nothing but the sound of the occasional clink of prisoners' chains and a dry wind giving a ghostly howl through the cracks in the stone walls could be heard as Aria sat in the pitch darkness of the holding cell. It had to have been hours ago that she, along with a good number of others, had been dragged into these iron-barred cells and left in silence. She'd spent a good amount of that time trying to wriggle her way out of her chains, but after that proved fruitless, she resorted to slumping back against one wall as she sat there and regulating some controlled breathing in order to reduce the irritation to her broken ribs.

No one was speaking, which she had to admit was a bit eerie, but she knew why. Across from the cells was a sentry tasked with guarding them, and the prisoners had been ordered to keep silent. Surprisingly, they'd followed the order. Aria didn't have much to say, anyways. The poor woman had no idea where she was, or what was going on, or what that troll had meant when he'd said, "Everything is going according to plan." What did that mean? That he'd planned this? That he _wanted_ to be raided by slavers and taken captive? How stupid can a person get?

Just when enough time had passed for Aria to begin to feel a bit sleepy, her drowsiness was immediately squashed when a loud creak came from the far end of the dark, cramped dungeon and afterward followed a burly, Orcish form through the doorway. The creature shuffled in, jingled a few keys as it approached, and then set to work opening Aria's cell door. She pulled her knees closer to her body despite the pain in her ribs and held her breath, wondering how this night could get any worse.

The orc swung the cage door open and reached down, grabbing her chain and pulling on it hard enough to tug her forward, then un-linked her chain from the floor so that just he was holding it.

Immediately, from the cell to the left, Aria heard chains rustle and the shuffling of someone moving.

"Wait," the troll leader's unmistakable voice commanded, and the orc in front of Aria paused, glancing at the other cell. The troll continued. "Are you doing interrogations?"

The slaver simply stared.

The troll continued in a very calm tone. His Zandali accent could be heard just as an underlying drawl, nothing more. "She's not a part of my band. I'm the leader. It's me you want, not her. She doesn't know a thing."

The burly orc didn't move a muscle and simply stared into the other cell. He sounded skeptical, and his Common was only barely understandable. "You are the leader? You are Zu'Kalox?"

"I am."

"Who is she?" the orc jammed a finger toward Aria.

"Nobody. Just a captured slave. Useless."

Aria felt her skin prickle at the troll's words, and she felt her lip curl in anger. "I'm not _nobody_," she hissed.

"Shut your mouth," the slaver ordered, yanking her chain sideways and causing her to jerk forward. She gritted her teeth at the pain in her side, and glared up at him, her silver eyes allowing for clear sight through the low light.

"You're making a huge mistake, slaver," she threatened, her voice a gritty growl.

"And you have made your last," his rumbling voice was on the verge of becoming a roar. He gripped her chains and forced her to her feet. "I say shut your mouth, you _shut it._" With his last two words came the back of his fist against her cheek, an action so unexpected that Aria couldn't help but let out a sharp cry of what was mostly surprise, but mixed with a good helping of pain as well. Until she had come into contact with slavers, she'd never been so brazenly struck by someone before. She'd never been so powerless and at the mercy (or lack thereof) of such beasts, and it set her fury aflame.

She stumbled backward a couple steps, halting due to the restraint of her chains, and the orc let out a low growl, opening his mouth to say something else, but Aria had other things in mind. Through her rage at the orc's strike, she grasped her thick chains in both hands and swung them upward, and the backlash of the chain yanked it out of the orc's fist. Before he could respond, she whipped the chain up again and caught the orc straight in the face with the hard makeshift weapon.

He let out a roar of anger and grabbed for her chain, but she stumbled back and swung it again, where it again lashed hard against the orc's jaw. His disoriented daze only lasted a second, but that was all Aria needed to slip around him and out the gate, dragging her chain behind her. She looked around frantically, trying to find an exit, only to realize that despite there being multiple doors, there was but one single unlocked door to the room, and barring it was the sentry that'd been watching them.

In a fit of desperation, Aria bounded toward the door, ignoring the sharp pain in her side and swinging the chain out at the last second, catching the sentry's upper arm. The heavy chain then whipped around and snapped against the sentry's side, but he now caught it in one big fist and gripped his fingers around it so she couldn't pull it away. She let out a feral growl and bared her teeth, yanking at the chain in a last attempt to break free. She'd been so caught up with the sentry that she hadn't seen the other slaver come up behind her with more shackles, and before she knew it, she had been caught and chained so suddenly and so securely that there was no way she could possibly pull something like that again.

The now-furious slaver yanked on her chain, handing it to the sentry. "Hold her," he growled, and then turned to where the troll was in his cell. The troll leader had stood up sometime between the moment when Aria'd escaped and now, and he regarded the orc with an odd level of calm. Aria didn't understand why he was so relaxed right now. It was driving her nuts; she was livid and in pain, and he was treating this entire situation like a stroll through the park.

The slaver opened the troll's cage and the troll came willingly. In the low light of the room, the iridescent indigo tint of his hair caught the feeble glow and sent odd colors shimmering different ways. As he walked past Aria, his eyes caught hers for a split-second, and even through the hatred that rose at the sight of those red eyes, she couldn't help but catch a fleeting look of concern in his expression, clearly directed toward her. As soon as the concern was there, then it was replaced with a look of reassurance, and if she'd caught it correctly, he'd just winked at her.

She grimaced and turned her head to the side, but then her ears perked at the sound of his voice whispering as he passed.

"Don't do anything stupid."

Her head whipped up, but she didn't catch his face, as he'd already passed her, being directed through the door by the slaver. The slaver then paused and grabbed Aria's chains, tugging her along with him, and this time, she simply followed as well, mind whirling.

This troll clearly had something planned, or else he wouldn't be acting so smug. As far as she could tell, he wasn't in cahoots with these slavers, which meant he must have some plan to get out of here. He'd mentioned interrogations; was it possible he'd set this up on purpose? Getting caught, being taken into this stronghold...could it have a purpose?

If so, Aria needed to re-think her strategies. So far, she'd been nothing more than illogically frantic and panicky, jumping at any chance she got to escape. But if this troll, if this 'Zu'Kalox' had a plan, and he was telling her to 'not be stupid,' then perhaps she could, maybe, possibly, put aside her dislike of his species and allow him to do whatever it was he had planned. Doing so would take an immeasurable amount of self-control, not to mention would be going against everything she stood for. But she could do it.

She had to, if she wanted to make it out of here.

* * *

The interrogation room was nothing more than a large, dusty old stone cellar underneath the stronghold. Three massive barrels lay at one end in a line, and from what Aria could tell, they were the type that held ale. Lit torches lined the walls, as did about ten other Orcish guards, and in the center stood one of the roughest-looking orcs she had ever seen. He wore tattered, long black-and-purple robes, and his dusky skin was mottled with scars. The left side of his face was so mutilated and covered in scar tissue that it practically didn't look real; in one spot at his cheek, there was no tissue, and she could see straight through to his teeth, a sight that made her stomach twist in disgust. A patch stretched over his left eye, covering what she had no doubt was an empty socket. There was no way someone could have that much damage to their face and still have a functioning eye.

He was massive, bulky-shouldered and hunched as his race tended to be, though he didn't appear at all aged, just... experienced. The scowl on his face was sour enough to pucker lemons themselves, and as he approached Aria and Zu'Kalox, she found herself cringing away from him almost subconsciously.

The slaver holding her said something in Orcish to the orc in the robes, jerking his head toward the troll, and Aria could catch the name, "Zu'Kalox" in his statement.

The scarred orc's eye flicked between the two of them for a second, and he muttered an order, then turned and walked a few steps toward the far end of the room. The slaver responded by letting go of Zu'Kalox and dragging Aria to one wall of the room, pointing at the ground.

"Sit," he ordered, and as much as Aria wanted to spit in his face and tell him to shove it, she did as he ordered without issue. 'Don't do anything stupid' probably involved not spitting on her captor.

He reached behind her and linked her chain into a lock protruding from the wall, then grabbed the troll and forced him harder than was necessary toward the other orc, over to where Aria saw a hook pulley set into the ceiling. No more than a few seconds later was Zu'Kalox chained up, his long arms raised over his head and hooked to the ceiling to the point of where he was almost hanging there by his wrists. Aria felt her spine tingle at how tall the troll was when stretched out to a full height. Nearly always, trolls sort of hunched, but now that he was being held upright, she realized he was far larger than she'd ever noticed, and way taller than the orc in front of him. He was easily taller than the men of her own race as well, which was saying something.

Immediately, the orc began to speak, this time in plain Common.

"It's been a long time," he said to the troll, reaching to his belt and withdrawing a sharp, long, thin blade and holding it up close to the troll's face, placing the flat of the blade against his cheek. "I wonder, do you remember the last time our paths crossed?"

Aria saw the troll's face flicker into a smug grin, tusks glinting in the firelight and eyes twinkling even from this distance. "How could I forget, old chap?"

The orc's shoulders bristled, and he drew the blade slowly across the troll's cheek, applying just enough pressure to draw a thin streak of blood. The troll didn't even flinch.

"You gave me this scar," the orc's voice was a rumbling growl as he pointed at his own marred face.

"If it's any consolation, I'd actually intended to kill you," the troll admitted, a trickle of blood escaping down his chin from the cut. "The scarring was, truly, an honest accident."

The orc let out a resonant roar, gripping the knife tighter in one hand, and Aria half expected him to jam it straight through the troll's heart, but he somehow refrained from doing so despite how he desperately, clearly wanted to.

"I could end you right here," the orc fumed, situating the point of the blade at the troll's bare, tattooed chest. He pressed the knife into the skin, the point of it just beginning to sink in, and Aria could pick up Zu'Kalox tensing up at the pain.

"You won't," Zu'Kalox grunted, retaining humor even now. "I'd be dead already if you didn't want something I have."

The orc seethed for a moment before relenting, pulling the blade away, where it left a now-bleeding mark in the man's chest, just over his heart. He stalked over a few steps to the side, then turned back toward the troll.

"You see, that's the good thing about interrogation though," the orc retorted darkly, gaining an ominous tone. "I have so many ways to get the information I need."

The young troll's expression, rather than faltering, intensified as his grin widened, gaining dimples at the sides of his jaw. "Can't wait."

The orc glared at him for a good ten seconds, and then turned around toward a simple wooden table littered with different, somewhat-disturbing-looking tools that Aria knew had to be torture devices of some kind or another. She shivered involuntarily. She didn't want to watch this, even if it _was_ practiced on a troll.

His fingers drifted over a few different instruments and then paused, hovering over one particular needle-like blade before he picked it up and strolled back over to where Zu'Kalox hung passively in place.

"Eight months," the orc murmured. "Eight months I've been trying to catch you, and now you practically waltz into my grasp. You are a very stupid man." He took the sharp, razor edge of the blade and pressed it into the sensitive skin on the troll's ribs.

"Insane perhaps," Zu'Kalox grunted against the stinging pain, not missing a beat. "But never stupid."

The orc drew the thin, sharp razor quickly across the troll's midsection, and Aria could practically hear it as it cut through flesh like it was nothing. The troll visibly winced, but didn't make a sound, and spoke almost immediately again.

"In fact," he gritted his teeth for a second as Aria saw the long, clean cut at his ribs begin to bleed generously. "If anyone here is stupid, it's you."

"Is there a reason behind that, or are you just trying to make things worse for yourself?" the orc questioned, bringing the knife up to the troll's other side and beginning to press into the skin again, drawing more blood. Aria couldn't help but look away. She was used to fighting and killing and the gore that followed such things, but witnessing a man's torture was an entirely different matter.

"There is, actually," Zu'Kalox stated, letting out a sharp breath and wincing again as the blade dragged over his skin, and then strangely enough, he chuckled. "Why do you think I made this so easy for you?" He clicked his tongue. "Never underestimate the intelligence of your opponent, slaver. You should know this by now, especially with me."

Aria looked back over, gauging the orc's expression, noting his eyes as nothing more than slits as he glared at the troll. He seemed practically frothing at the mouth in rage, and looked about to retort, but as if on cue, a loud, sudden commotion from the floor above them had him faltering and glancing back at the other slaver. It sounded like something heavy had just hit the floor, and shouts and loud clangs could be heard echoing overhead.

The torturer glared at the other orc. "Assess the situation," he growled, "and do not return until it is resolved."

The slaver turned and left through the door, and Aria heard his footsteps up the stairs. She then looked back over at the troll, who was now sporting a giant red 'X' across his chest, with blood oozing from the cuts in angry crimson pools that dripped down to his belt. He didn't even seem all that fazed, though, and with what was going on upstairs, he seemed somewhat energized. He sent a bright, taunting grin at the fuming orc in front of him.

"Funny," he said in an almost sarcastically-bright tone, "I've just realized that we happen to be in the only room, out of this entire stronghold, that has but one exit."

The orc paused, confusion flickering across his face. Through his hesitation, his fury had broken. "What?"

Zu'Kalox's vivid, sparking eyes erupted with refreshed vitality just as a loud bang came from the door up the stairs, followed by thunderous footsteps of what had to be multiple people. Aria startled at the sound, tensing up where she sat chained, and seconds later, through the door came barreling at least half a dozen people, some of which she recognized as people she'd seen chained up in the cells. They swept in with blades at-the-ready, and the guards who up until now had remained frozen in their places, all reacted immediately, drawing their weapons and readying spells to attack.

Aria, whereas if she'd been unchained would have turned on the nearest slaver guard, had no choice but to cower and hope desperately she wouldn't be caught in the crossfire of the fight that ensued.

A flash of vibrant red-gold hair caught Aria's attention, and her eyes flicked straight to one person she recognized, and she felt her hope finally latch hold within her. Lucy. The freckled rogue swept through the crowd, disregarding everyone except the scarred orc who had, up to this point, remained stunned. She crashed down against him, blades hissing through the air as he dodged back, surprisingly agile for his bulk, and he backed up as she continued to bear down upon him with her quick, seemingly-lightning-fast attacks.

Aria saw the chained troll lift himself up by the shackles that held his wrists, bringing his knees up to his chest and then somehow maneuvering himself to where he was practically upside-down, his feet gripping onto the chain at his wrists. Aria blinked at the sight; the movement had seemed like liquid, and she wondered how in the world someone could be so nimble. He fiddled with something seemingly in his mouth for a moment before looking triumphant, and between his lips he produced a small, metal rod, which he brought up close enough to where he could grab it with his hands. From that point on he was good to go, and within just ten seconds of fiddling with the shackles at his wrist, they broke open, and he was set free.

Aria couldn't help but let out a snort. This guy _had_ to be a rogue.

To her own shock, rather than turning to attack anyone, the first thing the troll did was make a beeline straight for her, dodging past stray blades and spells, and when he reached her he ducked down beside her, immediately going to work on the shackles at her ankles. Her shock overrode her underlying need to cringe away from the creature, and she simply stared at him with wide, stunned eyes as he diligently worked at each shackle.

He quickly freed her ankles and then her wrists, and immediately she stood up, ignoring the pain that still shocked her ribcage with each movement. She continued to stare at him, still stunned, but his attention had already been bought by another adversary behind him.

Aria took a weak step forward, dazed by the chaos all around her. The door across the room was the door to her freedom. If she could reach it, she'd be that much closer to getting out of this place.

To her right, she narrowly dodged a runaway shadow bolt released by one of the slaver orcs, and she had to stumble backward sharply to miss a swinging blade. She tried hard to focus, but the absolute disarray had her confused. Everything was happening both in slow motion and in double speed, and somehow amidst the craze, something else happened that couldn't have been predicted.

A shadow bolt missed its intended target and shot off across the room, exploding against one of the giant barrels and shattering a whole side of it, causing the alcoholic drink to spew out in all directions, hitting the walls and floor and even a few people. At the same time in what could only be described as a fluke, one of the torches on an adjacent wall was knocked out of its placeholder by the elbow of another orc. The torch fell to the floor, igniting the fumes of the alcohol in a furious, sudden blaze that swept across the room, engulfing even some who'd been sprayed with the flammable alcohol. Immediately, the task now was to get out of the room, as the fire had swept its way up to the barrel and had now caught even on the wood. If Aria knew anything about contained substances igniting quickly, she knew this could get ugly fast.

Aria began to cough and sputter as smoke filled the cellar, and those who'd survived were currently in a battle between getting themselves out of the room and fighting against their opponents at the same time. She searched for Lucy, praying fiercely that the woman hadn't been caught in the blaze, but couldn't see her through the smoke. Within just a few seconds, it reached a point of where it was almost too thick to see, and Aria had to resort to stooping down, trying to breathe and see where she was going at the same time. By now, it appeared nearly everyone had made it out; it'd become more of an every-man-for-himself escape than anything else.

She sped up, finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and didn't see a fallen body at her feet until her toes caught underneath it and she tripped, landing hard on the floor. She coughed hard, barely noticing the pain in her side due to the adrenaline coursing through her, and she whipped her head back up, looking around and realizing that here, on the ground, was still clean air. She glanced behind her at the body, noting that it was someone she didn't know or recognize, and she simply crawled toward the exit. She didn't have much time; she knew the barrels, if the other two caught fire, would most likely explode, and she wouldn't stand a chance if that happened while she was still in there.

She'd almost made it to the exit when something caught her eye. A glimpse of dark blue in the corner of her eye, just a few paces away. She froze in her spot as she realized whose hair that was, and she stared at it, mind whirling. The troll, Zu'Kalox, was lying there, apparently unconscious, with a thin trail of blood seeping from his nose. She stared for a good five seconds before wrenching her gaze away and shaking it off, making for the exit again.

Something stopped her, though, and she couldn't bring herself to keep going. A tugging thought in the back of her mind, a strong pull of guilt, latched onto her and forced her to pause. If not for what he had done, she would still be chained up to that wall, and then she would most assuredly die. Was she really going to abandon someone who'd undoubtedly saved her life? Was she that prejudiced that she would subject someone to a death just because she didn't like his race? What kind of person would that make her?

Would she leave him there to die if he was something other than a troll?

_No, I wouldn't._

She flicked her eyes back toward where he lay there motionless. She couldn't even tell if he was alive, to be honest. She shuffled over to him, coughing back smoke and blinking her eyes through the burning heat to inspect him. She tested his pulse. It was weak, but it was there, and thus her decision was made. Grinding her teeth together as tightly as they'd go, she bit back the almost unbearable pain in her side as she lifted one of his arms over her shoulder and dragged him toward the stairwell. She could hear the fire begin to roar behind her from the barrels and knew she could have mere seconds, but she kept pushing on, refusing to leave the troll behind.

By some miracle she managed to get him out the door, but try as she might to keep a clear head through the dizzying, choking smoke that invaded her airways, the last thing she managed before dipping out of consciousness _again_ was dragging him up the stairs. As soon as she hit the top step, she collapsed down beside him onto the cold stone floor, vision going dark as her desperate lungs failed her.

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**Poor Aria is going to end up getting brain damage from all the times she's lost consciousness in this story so far.. xD**

**Will update soon! :)**


	4. Refreshed

**Hey readers! :) Thanks everyone for reading/favoriting/following/reviewing. Lots of love to all of you for the support!**

**This chapter is the first relaxed one we've gotten so far. Collective sigh of relief, coming right up. :P**

**Responses:  
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**Ophianara Blade: Thank you! And yeah she's certainly receiving the butt of her luck lately. That's all going to change, though! :) **

**CherryMountain: Lucy is the best :) She's gonna be so awesome in this story, in my opinion at least! **

**OnyxRing: Hahha I'm so glad you like it! It's different than my other ones, but I guess that's a good thing :D Also. Troolllssss. I love da trolls, mon.**

**Khaylie: Thank you! Happy you're enjoying the story as much as I am! And... I like trolls too. ;)**

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Warm, golden beams of sunlight filtered in through a window across a wide, open room, and Aria's eyes cracked open as she felt the comforting warmth sooth over her skin. She inhaled a deep, slow breath of fresh air, relishing the lack of pain accompanying the action. Whereas her ribs would normally be tender, there was nothing more than a dull, almost nonexistent ache, and it was a tremendous improvement.

She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. It appeared she was in some sort of infirmary, if it could be called that. It was more of a hut than anything else, much like the one she'd been in before with Lucy, but it was well-made and had no flaws in its design. She counted five beds including her own, all lined up against one thatch wall, three of which had occupants snoozing away under the covers. The atmosphere was quiet, peacefully so, and through the window drifted a warm breeze that seemed to envelop her in a blanket of security. For the first time in a long time, Aria felt her shoulders relax. She had no idea where she was, but the fact that she was no longer chained was in itself a priceless gift.

With her relaxation, however, followed the return of her most recent memories, and she felt herself tense right back up again. She absentmindedly brought one palm up, placing it to her chest just under her throat, recalling the burn of the smoke that'd suffocated her to the point of losing consciousness. She could practically feel the dry, choking smoke invading her airways still and felt thirst grip at her in response. She sat up, searching about to see if she'd be lucky enough to have a glass of water about, but didn't see one anywhere. Her mind drifted back to the fire. She wondered about the troll she had dragged up the stairs. She didn't see him here, but she knew he'd been injured. Had he survived?

She looked around again, eyes falling on a sleeping form of whoever was in the bed beside her, which was only about ten or so feet from her own. It was a man she didn't know but looked familiar, like she'd seen him before. Perhaps he'd been one of those caught by slavers.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, for the first time taking note of her clothes. She was wearing what felt like light-weight cotton, the shirt a crisp white and the pants dark grey, comfortable and soft. She wasn't even sure of the last time she'd worn clothes like this. Not that she was complaining. The clothes were clean, and she could tell someone had taken the time to at least wash her up enough to where she didn't have dirt and dust caked in every nook and cranny, but she still felt a strong urge to bathe. Perhaps she'd be fortunate enough to find a tub or something in this…wherever she was.

The floor was nothing more than smoothed, flattened dirt, covered in most areas by woven rugs, though in some areas the dirt won through. From the breeze coming through the window, Aria could pick up the aroma of cooking food, and she felt her stomach twist in hunger. She hadn't actually eaten solid food in who knows how long. She tiptoed to the end of the hut, pausing in the doorway and peeking out, and the sight that met her nearly shocked her out of her skin.

Straight ahead out of the doorway, only about fifty paces away, was a large glittering pool of an almost unreal cyanic blue. In every direction were thick tropical trees and vines and dense undergrowth like ferns and vibrant, gigantic jungle flowers standing out like gems in the greenery. A thin dirt path led out from the infirmary, winding around to the right, and Aria stepped out into the dense jungle, taking a deep breath. Lingering in the air was a mixture of verdant forest, fresh water, and a telltale scent of cooked meat. So far, she hadn't seen a single person other than the few in the beds in the infirmary, and to be honest she was sort of relieved. The less excitement and mental stimulation the better. She was still recovering.

However, as she rounded a bend in the path and broke into a central clearing through the dense jungle ferns, the world around her exploded with activity. People of various races, both Horde and Alliance, at least two dozen, were walking all about, all seeming to have some job to do or an objective. One thing she noted was that they all seemed to be the same, in a weird way. Despite their different races and obvious various backgrounds, they all appeared connected. The way they interacted with one another, the ways they spoke and carried themselves... Everyone walked with a confident, calm air, not one of them in any sort of hurry. The entire atmosphere here seemed…welcoming. Pleasant, even. It was relaxing, to say the least, not to mention weird as all hell to see something like a gnome and an orc sitting at one end of the central clearing seemingly having an intelligent conversation, both of their faces knit in concentration and intrigue.

Aria knew neutral locations that existed, but she'd never seen anything like _this_. There's a difference between tolerating the opposite faction, as is done in places such as Booty Bay or the like, and fusing with it. She wondered how she'd gotten here. Last she could remember, she'd passed out in that fortress inferno. She had a strange pattern of passing out and waking up in odd places, and at this point, she didn't even begin to ask where she was.

As she walked through the clearing, for some reason nearly everyone there took at least a few seconds to look at her, and it was weird having so many eyes on her. They all didn't seem to be in any way uninviting, just observing, so she kept exploring the area, doing her best at ignoring all the observers.

Her eyes fell upon a campfire in the exact center of the clearing, which was being tended to by a human man dressed in clothes similar to her own. He was somewhat small-built and lean-muscled, with medium-length jet black hair and equally-dark, angular monolid eyes, high cheekbones and a smooth, olive complexion. As she approached, he glanced up at her and immediately sent her a wide smile, standing up straight from where he'd been hunched over the fire.

"Look who's awake!" he exclaimed, "the revered hero herself!"

Aria managed a subtle smile at one corner of her mouth, feeling a little awkward. Seemed people here knew who she was, but she knew none of them.

"Aria, right?" He waltzed right up to her and, though he didn't touch her, he did coax her over to the fire. "Come!" he said excitedly. "You must be quite hungry."

She hugged her arms around herself and walked over to the fire, sitting down in a bench beside it. He quickly retrieved a tin plate and filled it with cooked, flaky meat, then took a large dipper into a pot above the fire and poured a few scoops of steaming liquid into a cup, handing them both to her. She set the plate in her lap and caught a subtle whiff of whatever was in the cup. It smelled fresh and herbal.

"Deviate fillets and green tea," he said simply. "Eat up!"

With no regards to any manners, Aria immediately devoured the meat, downing her food within just a few minutes as she let the tea cool enough to drink. Once she'd finished her fish, she gulped down the tea in one swift movement, then set the cup down on the plate, feeling much better, though still quite thirsty. She glanced back up to see the man sitting there next to the fire, staring at her with an entertained expression. He had his elbows braced on his knees in a very relaxed stature.

"More?" he offered, and she shook her head. She'd eaten so fast that her food hadn't had time to settle. Once it did, she wouldn't be remotely as hungry as she was now, and then maybe she'd eat later.

"Thank you," she finally said gratefully, and he noted her drink was empty, so he filled it again.

He sent her a genial smile. "I can tell a hungry girl when I see one. Must've drained everything out of you the other night, with everything that happened. We're quite sorry you had to get caught up in all of that."

"You were there?" she asked him. Did that mean she was back with the troll's people?

"I was. My name's Nathan Liu, part-time cook, part-time outlaw," he tipped his head, "at your service."

"Outlaw?" she lifted her brows skeptically.

Nathan hesitated. "Do you not know where you are? What this is?"

"Some sort of rain forest," Aria replied, "but other than that, I haven't a clue."

"You're in an oasis, actually," he replied, holding his arms out to the sides and glancing up into the lush trees. "Barrens area, approximately twenty miles west of Ratchet port."

She blinked. "Oh." A pause as she glanced around, drinking her tea. "What is this place?"

"Operative headquarters!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Seriously, has no one told you anything?"

She just stared at him blankly. "Headquarters for what?"

He clarified. "For our guild."

"Guild?"

"Do you know anything about us at all?"

She shook her head, and he then nodded. "Aha!" he exclaimed. "That explains a lot." A second passed, and he reached out and took her glass, refilling it again with the green tea, then smirked at her as she took it thankfully.

He cleared his throat. "We're pirates."

She nearly choked on her drink. "Pirates?" she asked humorously. "You're joking, right?"

He shook his head, looking smug. "Nope. Given, we generally aren't out 'scouring the seas for booty,'" he said that last part with a strong pirate-like slang, "or anything ridiculous, but yeah, you could call us pirates. Our guild has so many different names, though, that I don't know which to call it by. We're more of an intermediary group than a single band. We all belong to different organizations, but altogether, we're pretty much a bunch of pirates. Though... Zu'Kalox prefers 'corsairs'."

There was that name again. Zu'Kalox. Aria exhaled a short breath.

"Zu'Kalox? So he's your...your captain?"

Nathan sent her a sly smirk. "He's not just our captain. He leads the entire operation."

"Which organizations make it up?" she questioned. He didn't seem to mind all of her questions, which was good, because she had many.

"Everything from pirates to thieves to assassins. We've got bigger guilds, like Mystic and Shrouded Serpent Syndicate and Bloodmoon Raiders, and then the smaller ones like Oculus and Crow. Occasionally, we even involve ourselves with names like the Blackwater Raiders, but they're questionable at their best."

She had absolutely no idea what any of that was. None of those names were familiar.

"What sort of 'operations' do you do?" she asked hesitantly.

He shrugged. "Believe it or not, we're actually not exactly...criminals, per se. I mean, we _are_, but... We're the good type. At least, we like to think we are."

She noted how he'd indirectly dodged her question, but she just rolled with it and chewed her lip in contemplation. Good criminals? Was there such a thing? What did that mean?

Nathan spoke up again.

"We're lucky you were there that night, though. With the slavers, I mean. Everything was going according to plan, if not for that fluke fire. Brave move you pulled, dragging Zu'Kalox out of there. We all owe you a great debt. We'd be lost without our captain."

So the troll lived, then. Aria felt slightly guilty knowing she'd almost left him there. She still wasn't sure she'd do it again if given the chance. She took a sip of her tea quietly. "Why are you answering all of my questions?" she asked him. "When Lucy talked to me, she wouldn't give me any information."

Nathan cocked his head. "Take it as a leap of faith. You saved our leader. It's the least I can do." He watched her a moment. "Where are you from, if I may ask?"

"I don't have any direct roots," she said, feeling at ease enough with this guy to at least reveal _something_. He seemed friendly enough and didn't appear to have any ulterior motives to his questions, just curiosity, which she understood. "Been moving around my whole life. Military, mostly. Where my unit goes, I go."

"And how in the world did you get involved with slavers, then?" he cocked his head at her, his near-black eyes regarding her with interest.

She furrowed her brows. "I'm not entirely sure myself, to be honest. My team and I were sent to clear out a Horde arsenal, and that all went fine. But on our way back, we were ambushed, and..." she trailed off, mind flashing of images of Tommy's death.

Nathan seemed to tune into her hesitation and changed the point. "Where was the ambush?"

"Arathi," she replied, willing her mind to alter its course.

"All the way in the Highlands?" he lifted his dark brows, and then nodded as if remembering something. "Ah, yes. Southshore is still crawling with pockets of those slavers. It's not so far-fetched that they'd spread into Arathi. They have ports set up in the cliffs and direct connections to the Burning Blade clan."

"Burning Blade?" Aria lifted her brows. "As in the orcs?"

"The very ones."

"I didn't know they dealt in slave trades," Aria blinked, shocked. As far as she knew of the Burning Blade orcs, their sole purpose was to wreak havoc on Azeroth itself through means of destruction and flame. They were mostly on Horde turf; Alliance generally steered clear. Then again, it'd make sense for them to deal in enslaving the races of this world. Just the icing on the cake.

Nathan chewed his lip. "As far as we know, they're the leaders of the trade."

"Are there many of them left, though?" she asked. "I thought they were wiped out."

"It depends on how you look at it. Compared to their full might? Not even close. But there are still pockets of them set up all over, especially here in Durotar and the Barrens area. We've been trying to get this area's leader, Kurosh Baneshadow, crossed off the list. You may have seen him during your time in their stocks. Big scarred face... Can't miss it."

Aria shifted in her seat. "About that," she began, "how long has it been since then?"

"Since when? Since you were in the enemy keep, or since you all returned?" Nathan paused, then cut in. "And...sorry about that, by the way: you getting caught up in our plan. It was a mix-up of schedules. We were supposed to have moved you here to the main camp before the slavers raided our other camp, but they caught us by surprise. Came a little earlier than we'd expected. I guess we're lucky you were there though, with the stunt you pulled."

_Other camp?_ she thought to herself. Half the stuff this man was saying made no sense to her. Did this mean that when she was being tended to by Lucy, she was at a different place than she was now? A...spoof camp? So the slavers couldn't find them here, then?

"It's fine. I suppose I should be thanking you for saving me in the first place," she said, and then shrugged. "And how about since we returned."

"A day since they brought you back. It was about six in the morning when the party returned with you and Zu'Kalox both out cold. Our healers kept you under so they could tend to you fully. You were worse-off than him, so I hear."

She reached up and ran her fingers through her short blue locks, letting out a sigh. She was missing so much time between sessions of being awake and unconscious for various reasons. It was so disorienting and stressful.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but a flash of movement to the side made her pause, and she glanced up just in time to see another human, a kid who looked like he couldn't be older than sixteen, come barreling in from the side and tackle Nathan in a gratuitous hug, laughing loudly. Nathan hugged him back, standing up and hooking his arm over the kid's shoulder, tucking one elbow around his neck, and giving him a giant noogie.

The boy tugged out of the noogie and sent an unceremonious punch against Nathan's arm. "Hey, shit-for-brains," the kid snickered. "Missed you."

"Nash," Nathan laughed, giving him a good-natured shove back. "You got taller."

"You were only gone a week," the kid replied with a snort.

"And you only grew an entire inch," Nathan retorted.

Cole straightened up and put his hands at his hips, stretching tall. "Only an inch?"

"Yep," Nathan nodded, grinning, "Or...maybe half that."

Smirking at Cole's look of indignation, Nathan turned back to Aria, introducing the boy. "This is Cole Nash, the runt of the bunch."

Cole rolled his eyes. "Hate when you call me that. I'm taller than you."

Nathan reached out and pulled Cole into an overly-affectionate, goofy hug, causing Cole to stoop as he pulled him into a headlock. "Oh you poor thing," he exclaimed in a falsetto voice, "Is big, mean Nathan picking on you?"

Cole grimaced and weaseled out of the hold, sticking his tongue out and folding his arms, though he still seemed in a good mood. "Shove it, Liu." he then looked back at Aria. "You the one who saved Kal?"

Aria didn't say anything, and Nathan spoke. "She is."

The boy grinned and suddenly threw his arms around her. He was a kid, but he was pretty lanky, already as tall as her despite her being an elf. She tensed her shoulders, keeping her arms snug against her sides while he tightened his arms in a bear hug for a good three seconds before letting her go, not skipping a beat.

"Then welcome!" he grinned at her. "We owe you big time. You have no idea."

Aria lifted one brow. "You're part of the guild? You seem a bit young for a pirate."

"I've been a part of this guild for nine years," he sniffed. "And I'm eighteen, thank you very much."

"Not eighteen yet, not for two weeks, kid," Nathan added in, chuckling and nudging Cole on the arm. "You're still our baby."

Cole threw his hands in the air. "I can't wait until you numbskulls recruit a new 'baby'. This is so old."

Aria lifted her brows. "How did you manage to join a pirate's guild at that age?"

"Kal," he replied simply.

Aria gave him a blank look.

He sniffed. "He's my dad."

Again, Aria nearly spat her drink in surprise. "The _troll_ is your _father?"_ How was that possible? The kid looked entirely, one hundred percent human. She blinked. "Well _that_ apple fell far. You look absolutely nothing like him."

Cole laughed loudly and shook his head. "My real parents are dead. I'm adopted." He said this like it was nothing.

She quieted again. "How did that happen?"

The kid stretched his lanky arms out to the sides nonchalantly. "Well you see, one night while poor Kal was just wasting away all lonesome and what have you, along came little old orphan me, swooping straight out of the sky on the back of flying tortoise. Nash to save the day!"

Her expression dulled. "A flying tortoise."

The teen grinned impishly at her. "It was on fire, too."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, dodge the question."

"Dodging is my specialty," Cole smirked, turning his attention to the fried fish near the fire and helping himself to a plate.

Choosing to ignore the boy now, Aria stood, downing the remainder of her tea first before setting her dishes with what appeared to be other dirty ones near the fire. She turned to Nathan. "How do you people go about bathing here?"

Cole glanced up at her. "Soap and water. What planet are you from?"

She ignored him still, and Nathan pointed off toward the giant crystal pool. "The oasis pools here are ideal. Take the westernmost one, the smallest one closest to the edge. You'll get the most privacy there, if that's what you want. We keep our soaps in basins at the edges. They work for clothing as well, but yours is clean so no need."

Aria thanked him and set off through the woods. She found the pool he'd suggested and stripped down, then quickly set to work scrubbing every inch of her skin, cleaning under her nails and massaging the spicy-scented soap through her short hair. It'd been nearly a week, possibly more, since she'd been able to properly bathe, and as the time passed, her mood began to elevate at a constant pace to the point that when she was done, she was practically smiling at absolutely nothing as she dried off and pulled her soft clothing back on.

She walked along the thin pathway that wound around the other pools and was distracted by the beauty of the forest, so she didn't see someone in front of her until she nearly ran into him. She stopped abruptly as she got a face-full of tall, navy-haired troll.

She let out a short breath and regained her nerves, staring at him hesitantly and taking a step back. He looked like he'd just come from bathing as well; his shaggy hair was slick, dripping down the sides of his face and swooping in all sorts of directions as trolls' hair tended to do. And, to top everything off, he was wearing nothing but a skimpy towel around his narrow hips.

For the first time, she took a moment to inspect him. He was a big guy in general, seeing as most trolls were, with bronzed, tribal-tattooed skin and intense red eyes. His hair was dark blue like hers, but the tips tapered into a bright teal, which she thought was possibly just a result of sun-bleaching. His demeanor was quite youthful, though she could tell he'd packed at least three or four decades behind him. However, his smooth, chiseled face showed little signs of aging. He had a wolfish chin and a straight nose, high, sharp cheekbones and full lips. In a strange way, without the tusks he could probably actually pass for a man of her own race, though maybe just a little more wild-looking, what with the tattoos on his chest and the piercings in his ears. In all honesty, she thought as she stared at him, he really wasn't so bad...

Aria tried her best to look at him without _looking_ at him. She felt like she _should_ be disgusted with herself for letting her mind get the best of her, but couldn't help it. She was in a great mood still, but felt caught off-guard and otherwise bewildered at the troll's absolute relaxed and non-clothed state.

He peered down at her and then sent her a slight, tusked smirk. His voice was somewhat quiet, but as always, he seemed to have a humorous glint to his tone. "Feelin' better?"

"What?" she asked immediately, and then blinked. "I mean, yes. Thank you. Much better." It felt strange speaking to a troll in any way other than maliciously. She was in too good a mood to spoil it. She made to get past him in the narrow path, but he shifted his stance and blocked her way, though she couldn't tell if it was intentional or not.

He nodded his head back toward the central camp. "We have food prepared, if ya feelin' hungry."

"Yes," she said, clearing her throat, "I ate already."

"Ya've met Nathan, then?" Zu'Kalox lifted one brow. His troll accent had gotten quite a bit stronger somehow since the other night, and when he said Nathan's name, he left out the 'h', which made him sound even more tribal.

"Nathan and Cole," she nodded, noting how when she said Cole's name, the troll's eyes softened and he gained a sideways smirk. Yeah, he was definitely the kid's father figure.

However, when he spoke, it wasn't about his son.

"Elfie, about what ya did back in the Burning Blade den... Pullin' me outta there and all." He gave her a sincere look, eyes twinkling. "I understand ya have your suspicions about me and my kind, and I am sure they are justified for some reason or another, so I know what ya did was no small task on your part. Fact is, though, I owe ya my life. If there is anything I can do in return, please allow me to help."

"Well," she hummed, "for starters, you could give me a place to stay for the time being." She almost surprised herself with the words, but knew she'd been thinking them for a while. Eventually, she would need to go back, back to Stormwind, to her station point. She was currently considered missing in action or possibly had already been counted dead; everyone else she was with during the attack had been killed, as far as she knew. She would have to go back. Soon. But before that, she needed to know that saving this man had not been a mistake on her part.

He lifted his sharp brows. If she wasn't mistaken, he seemed pleased. "Ya want tah stay? For how long?"

"As long as it takes for me to get a good idea of what's going on here," she said, ducking her chin slightly and giving him a studying look. "I want to know I made the right choice saving you."

He watched her for a moment, his eyes like deep sanguine pools. For a moment, his Zandali accent waned into almost nothing, his tone sincere and surprisingly rich. "You are welcome here for as long as you like."

Out of sudden curiosity, Aria forgot her bias and cocked her head at him. "How come your accent does that?"

A corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Does what?" It was clear he was thrown off by her random question.

"For a moment you don't have a troll accent, and then you do, and the next moment it just fades again. What's up with that?"

His eyes twinkled, and a grin spread across his face in amusement. When next he spoke, his accent became so strong that it nearly made his speech unintelligible. "What ya mean? Ya mean dis isn't how I speak all da time? Spirits, Elfie, dat be all kinds ah crazy ya be talkin'... Thinkin' I have no troll accent. . . Ha!" He nearly barked the last word as a laugh.

Half out of surprise, Aria's brows lifted while he spoke, and by the end of his little explosive charade, she couldn't help but begin laughing at how good he was at the accent. Then again, he _was_ a troll; it was just hilarious, because until now, his accent had been so subdued that it was shocking to hear it at full force. Still laughing, she shook her head.

"What _are_ you?" she asked humorously.

He quirked one corner of his mouth upward again in a sly smirk, sending her a playful wink. "I am a _troll,_ ya silleh elf," he said, his voice practically dripping with Zandali overtones. "What kinda question is dat?" Even his voice had become deeper and more resonant. His playfulness threw her off entirely, his goofy demeanor catching her so off-guard that she couldn't help but laugh a little longer. Laughter was the last thing she expected to result from interaction with one of these creatures.

She just sent him a humored look, subduing her laughter, and he finally cracked a wide, tusked grin, returning to normal speech.

"I'm just kiddin'," he laughed, turning around toward the camp and beginning to walk. It appeared he expected her to join him, so she just fell into step. It was still weird being this friendly with a troll, but she buried her tense thoughts and just let herself enjoy the simplicity of the conversation.

He continued, his accent nearly gone entirely now, the same as how she remembered it from the first day she met him, "I've lost my accent over the years solely for easier communication with non-native speakers. Common is a versatile speech, but it's easiest to understand in its purest, non-accented form. And after working with so many different people with such different backgrounds, it's easier to just keep it simple." He walked a moment in paused silence. "The accent peeks through when I'm home with my guild, though."

"The safer you feel, the more at-home you can act," she nodded. "I really get it."

The troll let out a contented sigh as they neared the central clearing. "Now, lemme find Lucille, and I'll have her fix you right up with a place to stay, alright?"

"Lucy? She made it?" Aria felt more relief hearing this than anything else all day.

Zu'Kalox sent her an amused, intrigued look. "You've taken a liking to her," he stated, almost as a question.

"Of course!" Aria nodded. The woman had certainly proven her mettle, and she'd helped Aria on multiple occasions. So far, Aria hadn't found a single thing to hold against her. She seemed good inside and out.

The troll smirked, glancing off toward the clearing. "Everyone seems to love that woman. I need to uncover her secret."

With that, he took off through the clearing, so Aria walked back over to the campfire, which had now been left alone. She didn't see Nathan or Cole or anyone else sitting around the fire. She sat down on a bench, holding her arms close.

She'd be staying here in the oasis for a little while, though she didn't plan for more than just a few days at best. She just wanted to make sure she hadn't made a mistake, as she said before. Get to know this guild, its leader, and its people. Despite being assumed dead, she was technically the law, and the guild had blatantly proclaimed themselves outlaws. A little investigation could go a long way, she decided.

Her thoughts wandered back to that fateful night with the fire. What had happened afterward? Obviously she'd been discovered or at least someone had seen her drag Zu'Kalox up those stairs before she collapsed. But what had become of the slavers? Nathan had spoken of that one orc leader, Kurosh, as if he was still alive. How had he survived if he'd been down in the explosion? And how had Lucy survived?

It seemed that with every answer she'd gotten today, ten new ones surfaced.

She let out a sigh, staring at the fire. Her thoughts traveled to a different idea: Her conversation with the troll had been pleasant.

...Of all words she'd expected herself to use in such context, 'pleasant' wasn't even on the list.

_This is a troll, Aria,_ she had to remind herself scoldingly as her mind had begun to wander, thinking back to the image of him standing there in front of her in nothing but a towel, with beads of fresh water still clinging to the smooth panes of his tattooed chest and shoulders. He was, she had to admit, beautiful in a weird way.

_Not beautiful. A troll. A killer._ _An enemy. _The words swirled in her head.

To her own surprise, though, a new question popped itself in her mind before she could douse it.

_Is he really my enemy?_


End file.
